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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119237">Crash and Burn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofhatebrains/pseuds/boxofhatebrains'>boxofhatebrains</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gundam Wing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Heavy Angst, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Rough Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofhatebrains/pseuds/boxofhatebrains</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the night in San Francisco in Episode 7, assuming that Trowa comes back to Quatre that night in the hotel, aka the "San Francisco Starley Hotel".</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Crash and Burn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Quatre POV</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We were talking.  Okay, I was talking.  You were hardly listening, or at least that was what it seemed.  You looked more interested in watching television than in what I had to say.  That’s okay, the words that drifted from my lips were so trivial, I didn’t mind when they faded into the tv’s soundtrack.  So, I let you have the silence that you craved.  But I did wonder...as I still continue to do.   </p><p>Why are you here, really?  </p><p>I’m surprised that you followed me to the hotel.  I can’t believe that you had reconsidered my offer and although I’m ecstatic because I feel connected to you, I’ve realized you obviously don’t feel the same. </p><p>    When I’m around you, I’m reminded of Earth.  From a distance, you’re so still and serene, but when I’m close to you, I feel your passion.  I feel your gravity and I want to fall into you.  I want to plummet so hard, that it scares me.  I’ve never felt such a pull to someone - to something, yes, but never to a person.  I’ve had dreams and ideals that have lead and motivated me, but never a single person. You make me dizzy.  You make me hope for peace all over again.  I want to give you peace.  And I’ve just met you.  For someone to have such power over my feelings, I...just get lost.  I get nervous.</p><p>   <br/>
    But you don’t feel anything.  You watch tv.  You walked into my room with a tossed "thanks" like a scrap of paper sucked away by the wind.  You sat down, void of any spare clothes or toiletries.  Nothing but yourself.  I don’t mind.  I’d rather it that way.  I don’t want you to offer me anything but yourself.  I have everything that I’ll ever need.  I have comrades, friends, spare clothes, money, a future, admirers, sycophants, and a past.  But not you, I don’t have you.  And I don’t think I ever will.  Is that why I’m so drawn?  Am I that selfish?  I desire the only thing that wont surrender to me, to my money and charm?</p><p>   <br/>
    My body starts slightly when you turn off the news.  You turn your head around and study me like we’ve now just met.  I suddenly feel shy and self-conscious.  I don’t want you to assess me.  I just want you to take from me and give me nothing in return but your name.  I want you to take me over.  I don’t want to be Quatre any more, not the Quatre I was on L4.  I want your gravity to burn me completely with nothing recognizable remaining.</p><p>    I envy you.  I want to be just like you.</p><p>    But you wont even touch me because it just doesn’t work like that.  You don’t work like that. You’re a soldier and what I feel for you is superfluous.  You’ll focus on your missions and never take away my name, my burden.  I’m going to be Quatre Raberba Winner now and tomorrow and, if I survive, after the war.  I hate myself for envying you.  I really do what to help you.  I do want to be your friend.</p><p>   <br/>
    “Come here," Trowa quietly speaks, not commanding or asking.  It isn’t a request, and I’m not sure what it is.  It’s just words the way Trowa says it; no passion or emotion.</p><p>    I do, though, and smile as a natural reflex.  I don’t mean to; my lips move without any effort or decision.  He motions to the couch he’s sitting on, beside him.  He wants me to sit next to him?  I carefully sit and smile wider, my heart clenching tightly with every beat.  In turn, heat spreads through each heartbeat, coating me uncomfortably.  I feel like I’m on the sun.</p><p>    “Yes, Trowa?” I ask and I can hear the warmth in my voice, flowing out.  I can hardly breathe, I can hardly think, as he gazes at me so deeply.</p><p>    Then I’m rocked by awe as he slowly leans forward to me.  His face, as cold and barren as ever, moving towards mine, slowly and deliberately.  I hear the clock ticking in our tense silence.  It feels so surreal.  Is this his steady breath on my face?  He desires me?  Am I imagining this?  Maybe I’m the one moving forward.</p><p>    But then he pauses so close to my lips.  I can smell him so clearly this close.  I can feel the heat of his skin.  I close my eyes hesitantly.  He’s not the type to mock my affections, right? He wouldn’t lead me on, right?</p><p>    I feel like it’s not real, just like when I’m in Sandrock.  Everything seems so scripted and I feel like just an actor.  Like I’m not really me.  Like everything is not really happening to me, but the person I should be. </p><p>  I taste the anticipation, heavy and bitter on my tongue.  The clock shouting every second deep inside my ears.  Every organ inside my body are running around like wild creatures.  I can’t stand this waiting, this fear that he’ll get up and leave me.  All while my eyes are closed and my head is buzzing.</p><p>   <br/>
    Flesh meets my lips.  I jerk in surprise.  It’s so light and still, I wonder if it’s him at all.  Then I feel it move against my mouth.  I try to apply all that I’ve seen in movies and shows.  I have never been kissed.  I hear our wet mouths making noise, soft and slapping.  My heart quivers as we kiss for what seems like a thousand loud, ticking seconds. </p><p>   <br/>
    I can’t believe it, really.  I keep a mantra spinning in my head: <em>This is Trowa;  Trowa is doing this to you.  </em>I lose myself in this feeling.  I’m plummeting into him.  My first kiss.  My first kiss from a boy.  For a deviant reason, that thought burns me down from my chest to my groin.  I hear myself moan.</p><p>   <br/>
    His tongue suddenly slides deftly into my mouth.  After my surprise, I shyly let my own wander into his.  I can’t stop myself any longer; I reach up and touch his face.  I feel hands on my shoulders, holding me tightly and possessively.  I’m melting.  I’m burning.  I’m breaking.  I want him to possess me.</p><p>   <br/>
    He pulls me to his lap.  I’m straddling him.  I’m hard.  I blush while I kiss, pouring myself into his mouth.  I hope he swallows me.  I’m not hesitating anymore.  My hands move into his hair, pulling it back from his face, and I hold him tightly to my lips.  This must excite him because he starts rubbing himself against me. </p><p>   <br/>
    It’s amazing.  This is the most human I’ve ever felt, wild and free from every failed effort we’ve made to be closer to perfection.  <em>This is perfection</em> - not our technological advancements, not our contraptions and weapons to make us stronger than each other, and not our inexcusable pride that drags us farther from this.  This right here. <em> This...</em></p><p>   <br/>
    His lips are gone abruptly, but quickly latch onto my neck.  I yelp in surprise, and then my control of my mouth is gone. I’m loud.  I blush, but can’t stop myself.  Trowa likes it because he grows hungrier and more ardent.  It hurts, but I get harder.  I grind against his hips.  It hurts and I love that.  I didn’t think Trowa would be a gentle lover.  He’d be the kind to take his pleasure without tender words or silent promises. </p><p>   <br/>
    I feel my vest being tugged and then it’s off.  Is this happening?  Is this what I want?  Do I want no commitments, no questions asked?  Do I even want to have sex?   Tomorrow I could die.  Trowa could die.  I suppose the question is: will I regret having sex with Trowa or not having sex with Trowa more?  I need to make my decision soon because this could change a lot of things between us and about myself.</p><p>   <br/>
    His shirt is tossed aside, as is mine.  He wraps his arms around my torso and I feel the heat of his chest as he kisses me again.  If I had any doubt of his desire, I could discover it in his heart as it pounds rapidly against mine.  We kiss like we’ve been lovers for years.  Our tongues mixing and rolling with each other.</p><p>   <br/>
    Then I feel his hands on my pants, unbuckling them.  I pull back from the kiss.  He stops and looks at me.  He’s not questioning me, gently, if he can continue.  He actually looks dark and angry that I’ve halted.  Maybe he thinks I’m teasing and toying with him.  He’s so observant, he probably knows how deeply I’m infatuated with him I am. Since the first time I saw him, offering surrender. Maybe he thinks that this is what I meant when I asked to fight with him.  Is this some sort of a relationship, then?  Did I, unwittingly, get into a relationship with Trowa?  Does it matter if I did?  Does it matter if I didn’t?</p><p>   <br/>
    “Hurry up and make your choice," he says, flatly.</p><p>   <br/>
    After taking a deep breath, I reach for my own slacks and finish unbuckling them.  He doesn’t look relieved or happy, he looks irritated, but I continue.  Soon, I’m naked.  And then, so is he.  I have no time to be shy or awkward, because he pushes me to the bed.  As soon as I fall onto the mattress, he’s on top of me.</p><p>   <br/>
    He doesn’t even look at my naked body, like he’s seen it a thousand times before...or it simply doesn’t interest him.  His mouth crawls all over my chest, his tongue scorching and hurried.  His hands scrape against me; the calluses tasting every inch of me.  I give. I give everything.  I let him taste my skin and pull my hair roughly.  His teeth mark my shoulder brutally, but I don’t stop him.  I want him to have me, I want to be the only thing he has.  I writhe against him.  He holds me down, his fingers digging into my wrist like razors.  I moan for him, I let him take his pleasure.</p><p>   <br/>
    He spits in his hand and my stomach turns.  Am I fearful or happy?  I don’t know.  I don’t want him to stop, but not because I’m aroused and wanton.  I have this buried fear that one day he’ll be gone, that somehow he’s going to die soon.  I know that I’ll be without him and I’d rather have him once than never at all.  Even if this hurts, the bruises will fade.  This is all for him right now...and for my own peace of mind later.</p><p>   <br/>
    Trowa lifts my leg on his shoulder and suddenly, his finger is pushing into me.  Only then do I cry out.  I look at the ceiling and bite my lip.  There’s another finger and I feel my eyes water. <em> Breathe</em>, I tell myself, <em>just breathe</em>.</p><p>   <br/>
    A third finger burns into me and I sob.  He doesn’t stop.  He doesn’t even look at me.  I remember that this is Trowa and this is actually happening.  I’m going to lose my virginity in a few moments to the man I love.  Many don't get this opportunity and I feel like I probably won't ever again.</p><p> </p><p>This is happy.  I remind myself to be happy.</p><p>   <br/>
    I sob out in pain.</p><p>   <br/>
    His pulls out the dry fingers.  I nearly sigh in relief, but I want more.  I want him to hurt me more.  I feel that, somehow, I deserve it.</p><p>   <br/>
    “Take me," I whisper, my voice clouded by tears.</p><p>   <br/>
    Take all of me.  I don’t want it anymore.  Take everything you want and walk away.  That’s how you are, isn’t it?  I want it so badly.  You live so freely.  I want to be a part of you and I want you to take me apart.  Take everything I have to give and everything I never offered.  I was always so selfish.  You can have everything, Trowa.</p><p>   <br/>
    He doesn’t respond in words, but he pulls my other leg over his shoulder.  He spits into his hands again.  A new round of tears envelopes my eyes, but because I’m happy, because he looks past my name.  He only sees me as who I am, a human.  An equal.</p><p>   <br/>
    I yell when I feel him inside me.  I never expected so much.  I can’t compare the agony to anything I’ve ever experienced.  Skinned knees, bumps on the head, and a few broken fingers are shallow puddles to this pain.  I claw at the bed.  He doesn’t stop, though.  He continues filling me without a pause.  I hiccup after so many tears.  I can’t breathe. I can’t move.  I burn.</p><p><br/>
    I burn everywhere.</p><p>   <br/>
    Then suddenly, I start to breathe again.  I begin to move again.  It’s like I’ve actually been born into this world.  Into his world.  He’s stopped.  He’s looking at me.  He’s breathing fast.  His hand clumsily brushes the sweat from my forehead, mixing it in my bangs.</p><p>   <br/>
    I start to cry and I’m unashamed because this bond between us now is so beautiful, like when we played together.  His hands are shaking.  He’s now uncertain of what to do.  So, I tell him.</p><p>   <br/>
    “Take me as I am, Trowa.  Don’t stop, please.”</p><p>   <br/>
    He moves inside me.  It hurts still, but I bite my lips and try to immerse myself in it.  I drown in the sounds of the bed, the clock, and the soft groans he tries to subdue.  I lose myself in the sweat that drops from his chest onto mine.  I content myself knowing that Trowa’s really here with me and not dead, that we're here and alive in this moment.  Now that I’m so close to him, now that I’m crashing into him, I can see his face.  His true face.  So flawed and beautiful.  And I’m glad that I’ve made this decision.  Just watching Trowa’s face, I’m awed.  I want to fight for peace, but I really, really want to live for you, Trowa.</p><p>   <br/>
    He speeds up and my whole body clenches.  He don’t seem to mind, in fact, he fucks me harder.  I get loud again, without meaning to.  I hope no one from the hotel checks on us.  Thankfully, cries of passion and pain sound so similar.</p><p>   <br/>
    He lies on me while still pounding into me, and I feel him get sharper and harder inside me.  I wrap my arms around his neck and enjoy having his breath in my ear.  Trowa suddenly throws himself into me as deep as he can possibly go and his body convulses.  He hisses my name and I lock it into my heart; this moment, the voice capturing my name.</p><p>   <br/>
    After a few more less enthused thrusts, he calms down.  He doesn’t collapse on me, but quickly and methodically pulls out. I gasp, not expecting it.  Then, he silently turns over and drops onto the bed, beside me.</p><p>   <br/>
    All that’s left between us is the silence.  Suddenly, I realize that I’ll never lose Trowa since I’ll never have him.  He’ll never catch me.  He’ll just walk away.  He’ll never take me away because he’ll never want me.  I’ll always just crash and burn.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Live to Learn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trowa POV. A bit extreme, so...you're warned.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m here.  I’m not sure why or how, but I’m at your door and you open it.  You’re smiling and so happy to see me.  I think I understand why, but I don’t want to deal with that.  You make room for me to come in and I do.  Maybe I’m here because I have nowhere else to go.  Maybe because I have no money to sleep anywhere.<br/><br/><br/>I take my shoes off and sit down.  There’s a remote nearby and that seems like a good distraction.  I really don’t want to talk to you right now.  Let’s just watch something. We can watch t.v. and then I’ll fall asleep in the chair I’m sitting in now.  You won’t wake me because you seem like the type.  Because you’re a nice guy, and you’ll put a blanket over me.  You’ll tuck me in.  Imagining it makes me sick, physically sick.  <em>God, I hate your type.</em><br/><br/><br/>You keep talking.  I hear every word, but I pretend to ignore you.  I don’t really want to listen, but when you’ve lived like I have, you hear everything in a room and in the next. You don’t know that the sink in the bathroom is leaking, but I do.  I can hear a feminine laugh upstairs.  I can still hear you no matter how much I try to block your voice out.<br/><br/><br/>I really hate you, Quatre.  You’re here trying to prove something.  I’m not sure if it’s to yourself or your father.  You’ve mentioned your father before, when I was your prisoner...when I should have been your prisoner.  You just never stop talking.  Go home, Quatre, and live your life.  You’re so lucky to have a father and a family, but you’ve stupidly thrown it away to fight in a war that has nothing to do with you.  I’m not saying that I have any justification, I’m just taking someone’s place, but you’re only going to get yourself killed and then what will you prove?  Nothing.  You’re so naive.<br/><br/><br/> You stop talking.  You’re looking out the window.  I can tell that you’re thinking hard and you’re somehow sad.  I’ve offended you, or didn’t live out your fantasy.  You’re disappointed in me.  Sorry, Quatre, but I’m not going to wait up for you.  I’m not going to be this torrid love affair and pick you up when you fall.  I’ve got my own agenda and it doesn’t involve you.  I can’t give you what you want. <br/><br/>Do you want to see where this road leads?  This desire you’ve built up toward me?  I know about it, your little crush.  You’re upset because you thought I came here to sweep you in my arms and make love to you until morning. Fine.  I’ll show you that it goes nowhere.  You expect too much out of me.  This is how life works outside your million credit mansion and your servants.  This is real life.  This is the only way I love...<br/><br/><br/>I turn off the t.v. and look at you.  I don’t want to get your hopes up and I don’t want to be under the weight of your affections.  They say something like “nipping it in the bud”.  I can tell by just the way your shying away and blushing as I look at you how much you want me...and how much I must be a different person in your mind.  You’re acting like a love-sick little girl.  Boy, are you in the wrong place.  This is the real me, Quatre.<br/><br/><br/>“Come here”, I say.  I’ll let you come to me.  I’ll let you do all the work because this is the person I am, I’m not going to give myself to you.  I don’t work like that.  The music...that was a mistake, I admit.  I don’t open up.  I won’t ever break in front of you and cry my heart out. I won’t give up my life for you, Quatre, and you’re so naive to believe I ever would.<br/><br/><br/>He does come over, so eager to please me and comfort me.  I don’t need anyone.  I pat the couch beside me.  He looks surprised and his face flushes again.  He smiles and there’s that sickness again.  Like I’m going to dry-heave.  You’re so obvious.  Did you ever think you’d be able to make it in this war?  Maybe with your servants, the Maguanacs, taking the brunt...but you wont let them, because you’re a good person. <br/><br/><br/> “Yes, Trowa?” you whisper so gently.  My stomach clenches.  You’re so infatuated with me and you don’t even know me. <br/><br/><br/>Let’s get this over with.  It’s not going to be fun; it’s not going to be pretty.  This is for you, Quatre, I’ll give you this much.  Just one night to make you a man and not a sappy girl.  <br/><br/><br/>I lean in and it’s hard to actually do it.  Honestly, I don’t want to.  I’ve never initiated sex before, but I know you won’t push away because you want this too much.  This falls perfectly into your romantic plots.  Here, I’ve come to you and given myself to you.  I feel anger rise with the bile in my stomach.  Just one night, nameless, I tell myself, and I can put this behind me.<br/><br/><br/>I kiss him and he jerks a little.  I want to sigh at how gullible you are.  If I were a different man, I could have stabbed you in the back or shot you in the head while your eyes are closed.  I wont kill you, but I am going to rape you, of your body and soft ideals of my love.  But I won’t be the one to kill you, I can promise only that and only for tonight.<br/><br/><br/>You stumble to kiss me back; you’ve never done this before.  It’s not bad, but it leaves something to be desired.  So delicate and frail.  Your kisses are gentle and your mouth, like the rest of you, welcomes me in without a thought.  I feel sick again at the thought that you really want this, that you want me.  This wont ever be rape, no matter how much I beat you or bruise you.  You’ll cling to the delusion that you love me and this is right. <br/><br/><br/>I feel you moan in my mouth.  I can’t stand you.  You’re so hypocritical.  Being a harbinger of destruction and then being so soft and warm, in body and spirit.  You can’t mix cyanide with cake batter and expect it’ll turn out good.  You can’t be love and death, Quatre.  This shows me that you’re indecisive.  You’re going to make a lousy pilot.  And even a lousier human being.  At least I have consistency.<br/><br/><br/>My tongue’s in your mouth and you love it.  I can feel your restless body beside mine.  Your soft hands touch my face.  These are politician hands or artist hands, not a gundam pilot’s.  You’re so reckless with your life and the lives of others.  Didn’t you say that you’re the heir of an important company?  What will happen to the company, which many people depend on as workers, if something happens to your father?  Thousands of lives depend on yours and you so freely risk it.  But now that you’ve been disowned, I suppose it doesn’t matter. <br/><br/><br/>You had everything and you’ve throw it away because you’re spoiled and stubborn.  If I had anything of yours, just one thing, I would have held onto it.   Yet now I’ve realized that I won’t ever have anything like that.  That’s how my life is.  I’m never going to be in love because I’ve discovered that I don’t need it.  I’ve survived fine on my own, without family or yachts or servants.  I’m better off than you, Quatre.  I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.  I’m probably going to die and no one will even care, and I’m all right with that.  I’m not going to bring sorrow into any one’s life from my mistakes, but you can’t say the same, can you?  <br/><br/>    <br/>I clutch onto him in anger, hold him there and violate his mouth roughly.  He moans in pleasure.  Oh fuck it.  I’m not being gentle.  You want this?  Fine, you get all of me.<br/><br/><br/>I pull you onto me.  I am still a carnal man, and when I feel he’s hard, I get aroused.  His kisses get deeper, rougher.  His tongue’s become a lot less shy.  I almost feel like we’re actually lovers, about to hit the sheets.  Fuck you.  I’m not your pauper boyfriend full of mystery and beauty.  You’re not my rich lover, showering me with presents and adoration.  Get real.  I’m using you and you’re letting me.  I feel like slapping you; maybe you’ll finally realize how dumb you are to have invited me here.<br/><br/><br/>You pull my hair back and dominate me.  It dizzies me.  I...I didn’t think that you had it in you.  I guess I was wrong.  You continue to hold me roughly while licking in my mouth, possessively.  I’m not sure-I just...It surprises me.  It arouses me.  It makes me almost forget how much I detest you.  I grind against your groin and I let my anger fall.  For this one time...we can pretend to be lovers...maybe, it won’t be so bad. <br/><br/><br/>I want to touch everything.  I want to rip your clothes off.  I want you to rip mine off.  I want you to fuck me.  I shiver.  I bite your frail neck and you cry out.  The more I bite and suck, the louder and gruffer you sounds.  I love it.  You’re so tight on my lap.  This isn’t a chore anymore. <br/><br/><br/>I make quick work of your vest.  Why so many layers, Quatre?  I don’t care.  I want more.  You want more.  We’ve finally come to an agreement about something.  I tear my shirt off and we both work on your shirt as we clumsily kiss together.  My face is wet from your missed kisses, just like yours probably is.<br/><br/><br/>I hold you close to me.  In this moment, it feels right, it feels good.  I can feel your heart against my chest.  The cologne you wear is being washed away by our sweat. Our mouths are tasting the same now. This is good.  It feels good...and I haven’t felt that in a while. <br/><br/><br/>I move to his pants, I want to feel him deep in me.  I can’t believe that.  I’ve only wanted sex a few times in my admittedly short life.  So many times, I haven’t wanted it, but saying no wasn’t an option.  It feels good to want it.  It feels normal.  I feel normal.  I feel like a pauper boyfriend.<br/><br/><br/>He pulls back and looks scared.  His eyes are wide and fearful.  My heart plummets and my chest burns.  Oh yeah, that’s right, I’m not his boyfriend.  I hate him.  He’s a snob who thinks he can change the world.  I feel disgusted.  Good one, Quatre. I can’t believe it was I who was used by you.  I played into your fantasy.  I feel so foolish.<br/><br/><br/>So, what now, Quatre?  Are you actually going to tarnish your body with me like the rebel you are or am I going to end up raping you?  The end is going to be the same either way. So quit being a hypocritical prude and give in.  Just a second ago you were humping me to your heart’s delight and now that I’m ready for more, you’re not sure.  I hate that about you.  Quit playing me. You’ve got to decide how you’re going to get fucked.<br/><br/><br/>“Hurry up and make your choice," I tell him, my patience failing.<br/><br/>After taking a deep breath, you pull off your pants.  You still left your boxers on.  What the hell do you think we’re going to do?  Why not just get to the sex?  I don’t want foreplay.  You watch me as I glare at you and slowly, the rest is tugged off.  You’re naked.  Good.  In a second, I am, too.  Great, let’s fuck.<br/><br/><br/>I throw him on the bed and get to it.  I’ve lost some length and I’ve got to get it back quick.  I guess I can stomach some foreplay to get me in the mood.  I think of someone else.  Someone that doesn’t try to change me or want me to give anything.  This man just wants sex.  I just want to give it.  That’s a good equation.  He has no face or story.  He’s just not you.  He doesn’t emotionally drain me.  He lets me bite him hard and hold him down.  He likes it rough and writhes against me...as you writhe against me.  I didn’t really notice it.  I taste the sweat and blood on your shoulder.  You moan.  You...you spread your legs.  I feel sick again.  What the hell?   You must be a masochist. You like it when I give you pain?  Do you want to know how it feels?  To feel pain?  That’s right, you and I are so different.  You were so sheltered.  I guess now you want to know what it’s like. Okay, I’m game.  I’ll show you exactly how it feels, how I felt.<br/><br/><br/>I pull back and get between his legs.  He watches me as I spit in my hand.  He trembles and I move the moisture to my fingers.  I slowly lift his leg over my shoulder.  I want him to anticipate what’s going to happen.  And I can see he knows what’s coming.  He swallows hard.<br/><br/><br/>I push my finger inside him.  He clenches down and I almost pity him.  This is going to hurt like hell for him.  I would know.  And he’ll know soon.  I hear him cry out and I push deeper.  He’s not looking at me, he’s staring at the ceiling.  I push in and out real slow.  This is how it feels, Quatre.  This is real pain.<br/><br/><br/>I can barely fit the next finger in.  I see tears in his eyes.  Am I heartless?  Should I stop?  No, this is what he’s asked me for.  <br/><br/><br/> I fit in the third and last finger while I hear him weep.  I watch the fingers pushing in and pulling out.  There’s a little line of blood on my ring finger, but you won’t die from that.  You’ll survive this, this is nothing compared to what you’ll face.  I’ll make you a man tonight.<br/><br/><br/>His body shakes from his sobbing.  I pull out of him.  He still cries.  What do you want?  God, you’re just so complicated.  I can’t get in your head and maybe I wouldn’t even be able to understand it if I could.  I’m going to do what I want to do.  I want to fuck you.  There, it’s <br/>settled.  It’s for your own good. <br/><br/><br/>“Take me," he whispers suddenly.  I can hardly believe it.  His face glows softly from the tears and his voice is choked.  You still want this?<br/><br/><br/>I...don’t really know how to think or what to say.  I just keep moving forward.  Maybe I’ll think about what you said later, maybe I won’t.  I just need to keep moving.  I hate staying idle.  I move your other leg on my shoulder.  I spit into my hands and try to make it worth it.  Suddenly, I don’t want it to hurt so bad for you...but this is what you want, right?<br/><br/><br/>I look up and through the tears, I can see that stupid expression on his face...like he really is in love with me.  Like we could be normal people just going about our lives.  We can’t do that. We just can't...<br/><br/><br/>I push into him and he screams.  I didn’t scream when it happened to me, but I wanted to. At least you think you’re in love, I didn’t even get that chance.  Quatre struggles and maybe it’s not what he wanted but what he thought he wanted.  Or maybe what he thought I wanted... Oh God, is he doing this for me?  Did he ever even want to be involved with me?  I feel him sobbing and crying.  I suddenly feel very bad and very wrong.  He’s not hard at all.  He’s not enjoying this.  This wasn’t the fantasy, so I won, right?  I showed him that I’m not what he wants, but...I don’t feel good about it.  I feel awful; I feel like throwing up.<br/><br/><br/>You’re so stupid, Quatre   Why did you let me do this?   Why are you always so easily putting yourself in danger for other people?  I don’t understand. <br/><br/><br/> He’s breathing hard and his hands are clutching the bed.  He looks horrible, with all the sweat, tears and snot...but...maybe...I feel something.  I don’t know what to feel.  I’ve stopped thrusting.  I don’t remember when, but we’re just looking at each other and struggling for breath. His hands loosen and his sanguine face eases from the contortion of agony.<br/><br/><br/>My hand is on his forehead.  He’s watching me through his eyelashes and then, there’s water there and tears leak out again...but he looks so hopeful.  We can’t do this.  We aren’t some school boys with nothing to lose.  I can’t ever give you anything.  I can’t promise anything.  Just walk away, Quatre.  This won’t ever work between us.  I can’t fall in love with you and I won’t let you fall in love with me.  How can I make you understand that?<br/><br/><br/>“Take me as I am, Trowa.  Don’t stop, please.”<br/><br/><br/>Take you...as you are?  What are you?  I just don’t understand...I don’t know how to feel about you. <br/><br/><br/>I do as you say.  I still fuck you, but this time it’s slower.  I start to enjoy it.  You keep coming to me and maybe you aren’t asking anything from me.  Are you ashamed of your past?  Do you think I’m distant to you because of your status?  Do you think that I’m avoiding you because I’m nothing?  It’s just that you drain me so much.  I can’t think around you.  I get so tired when I’m trying to block you out and ignore you.  I just get so tired.<br/><br/><br/>You really do feel good.  I lose myself in you.  Your arms are holding onto me.  You’re giving me your body and I don’t usually think that’s too much of a big deal, but this time... <br/><br/><br/>I collapse onto you when my arms lose their balance.  You’re moaning and crying out.  It’s painful and uncomfortable, but I orgasm.  I cum in you and it feels good.  I let myself feel good at your expense.  I really have used you.  I feel dizzy and tired.<br/><br/><br/>I linger inside you since it’s the last time I’ll be able to.  I almost feel sad.  I hold onto some flare of victory knowing I was your first.  But then I realize that I am lingering.  I pull out fast.  I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.<br/><br/><br/>I crash next to you and try to relax.  I’m not sure what to say now.  Usually, the person just leaves, but you wont be leaving.  This is your room, after all.  I’ll go.  But I need a few more minutes to rest.  Just a few more minutes.<br/><br/><br/>You start to cry again.  I hope you finally understand that I’m not here to love you or comfort you, I’m here for me.  Maybe one day, when you have your boyfriend that you’ll shower gifts on, you’ll thank me.  I’m kind enough not to string you along just to break your heart later. <br/><br/>I’m not the one for you.<br/><br/>I’m not the one for anybody.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Gravity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They part and Trowa has some time to reflect on his life. Trowa POV.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I can hear his struggled breathing fade into silence as the bed stills beside me.  We’re laying side by side, staring up at the wall.  I’m still breathing hard and I’m really trying to relax.</p><p>We’re consumed in silence and it’s raw against my ears since we’ve just landed from a world of noise.  Squeaking bed, moans, and the blood-rush thunder dissolves around me, abandoning me here.  I think I wish that I had never met him. </p><p>I don’t want to see the devastation or shame in his eyes. Nor the love. So, I keep staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and hoping he’ll just fall asleep and maybe I can sneak away and tomorrow...tomorrow, we’ll just continue like nothing had ever happened.  We’ll go back to the ordinary and I’ll silently hate him for it.  But I can live with that.  I can swallow that hatred just as I have done throughout my entire life.</p><p>However, he's not asleep yet and it occurs to me that he might be waiting for me to sleep so that I won’t leave, keeping me locked here, seething in my mistakes.</p><p>“Quatre,” I say, evenly, “I don’t know what to do.”</p><p> I can’t face him yet; I let out a breath.</p><p>“Do what you need to do,” he replies.</p><p>“I need to fight.”</p><p>He pauses before saying, “I need to, too.”</p><p>“No, you don’t,” I sharply cut in.</p><p>“I just need to fight for different things.”</p><p>“Go home, Quatre,” I order him without sorrow or contempt, “You shouldn’t be here.”   </p><p>“I can still fight,” he stubbornly whispers, “You don’t need to be a soldier to be able to fight, as long as you have the desire.”</p><p>“You’re going to get killed,” I tell him. “Or get us killed.”</p><p>After a steady silence and no more movement from him, he finally curiously asks, “Why did you have sex with me?”</p><p>“Because I needed it.”</p><p>“You needed me.”</p><p>I tense, “For sex.  Just once.  Don’t twist my words around.”</p><p>“I needed you, too,” he admits in a whisper.</p><p>I hate this. I never should have let him kiss me. I was a fool to touch him. This was pointless and I knew that. I admonish myself for wanting him, for pretending like this could have been an easy lay, or a way to get a safe place to sleep.</p><p>“Do you regret it?” he slowly asks.   </p><p>I don’t know what he’s talking about - the sex or wanting him, but it doesn’t matter.</p><p>“Yes,” I finally answer.</p><p>This is the only answer I can give that would help the both of us.  The only way to get back to who we were is to rip away everything we’ve become.  This is for the best.  This is for both of us.  This is for peace.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s months later when I feel the gravity of what I had done that night. That night in San Francisco, that I realize now had less to do with sex and more to do with becoming someone more.</p><p>I had felt it was a mistake, or a moment of weakness, in that uncertain time. But I realize now, with some sympathy, that it was a desperate plea of my heart for his kindness to reach me. I had wanted to be wanted. I had wanted to be touched. I had wanted Quatre to <em>feel something</em> towards me. Not because of his name or fame or wealth, but because of how he treated me from the first moment that we met. Like someone of worth.</p><p>I realize now that I rebelled against it because I wasn’t at peace with who I was. Even though my time as a gundam pilot has been less than a year, I can tell I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I’ve realized that it’s not easy to be nameless, and with nothing. As much as I have denied myself and others, I have affected them. I have become a part of their lives. My thoughts and actions can and will change others, and I’ve never felt that power and responsibility before.</p><p>Heero said to follow my heart, as I assisted in following his, even through meaningless and wasted battles. And in doing so, I realized that it was okay to be reckless sometimes, to be selfish. To stop myself from self-destructing because I would be missed by someone.</p><p>That was enormous. <em>That was Earth-shattering to me.</em></p><p>I was allowed to make mistakes, even among my allies, and I was no less for it. I’m sure the doctors would disagree, but Heero, smart and tactical Heero, accepted my failures with the ease of someone who has, himself, made mistakes. Our mistakes keep us fighting, and keep us honest.</p><p>So, in looking back on that night, the night I slept with Quatre, my once disgusted fury has melted into quiet contemplation and a shy hope. I don’t fault myself for wanting to be wanted, for wanting to be held, and most of all, for wanting to hold him. My desire is now less a burden or a shameful albatross, and is more of a reason to continue. Through the months, I have searched for him, have watched for 04 sightings throughout our silence, have heard his plea to return to space, and have <em>felt</em> for him when I saw the footage of his father being murdered. And in those months, I have let a wish grow inside me to see him again. Maybe to apologize. Maybe to touch him again. Or maybe just to be there with him physically, sitting side by side again, and allowing myself that comfort I denied myself in San Francisco.</p><p>I don’t hide my excitement from Heero as we near where Quatre is destined to meet us, in this new gundam. Although Heero is hesitant, or rather cautious, that something is amiss. And maybe because I’m so full of hope and excitement and purpose that I can’t sense what he’s locked onto.</p><p>But…as much as I changed, I'm realizing that Quatre has, too.</p><p>That’s apparent by his quaking, almost wild, voice. And instead, we have reversed – me, opening my arms in welcome and he, ready to pull the trigger. It makes me falter. It stings in my chest. I knew he experienced pain, but this is beyond pain. Whatever had happened, whatever had been done, it was something I have never nor could ever experience or understand.</p><p>He was gone. He was heartless. He was crazed and cold.</p><p>He struck out so as not to be touched, as if he were an injured animal. And then, he…he shot me.</p><p>My heart just will not, cannot, believe that this is the same Quatre that whispered, naked and quiet, “take me as I am” to me months ago. This is not the same Quatre that I woke up the next morning and told me that he didn’t regret it, would never regret it - defiantly and in spite of me. This is not the caring, honest Quatre that slowly crept his way into my deadened heart…</p><p>I'm terrified of this Quatre.</p><p>I'm still reeling with how much he and I have changed...But with this change, I realize it's now my responsibility to reach out to him, to draw him closer, to accept him and ask him to take me as I am. As wild and terrifying as that might be. He showed me how, and now it's my turn to return his gift of acceptance, even if at my own peril or rejection.</p><p>And that’s when it happens. That’s when I see how I can change this. That’s when I realize that I can still affect him, maybe…<em>Maybe</em>.</p><p>As the buster rifle’s shot is about to finish Heero’s defenses, I take a blind leap of faith. I take the shot instead. I absorb the impact of Quatre's fury. This is all I can do. I’m sorry, Heero, but it’s not for you. This sacrifice isn’t about you, and you may or may not realize that. I hope you do, because that means we can make this right. We can get back Quatre. Please follow me on this. </p><p>The funny thing is that this is exactly what I was afraid of when lying next to him that night on the hotel bed, as I heard him stifling his tears. If I got too close, I would make mistakes. I would put myself in danger. I would die because of him. I would be weak.</p><p>But this doesn’t feel like weakness at all. This feels a lot like peace. This feels maybe like love. </p><p>I’m willing now to make this mistake, to let my actions justify my words. </p><p>But I hope that I am able to say enough.</p><p>I tell Quatre about the futility of our actions, our redundancy, how the colonies have made a painful but obvious decision. And that wasn’t our fault, wasn’t his fault. Because right now that doesn’t matter – how the colonies feel or react, it just doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is him, his smile, his kindness, his soft way of lowering all of your defenses.</p><p>Even if we all die here today, to have him die the person he is now, just as alone and bitter as I was when we first met, I won’t let it happen as long as I can do something about it.</p><p>I put all of that hope into everything as I detach from the battle, as the Vayeate hisses and groans in its death throes, as I pull away from them, from him, and I just hope and hope that I can reach him somehow…Quatre, please calm down, please come back. Please remember that night and realize that it was you who was stronger than me.</p><p>I just hope and hope as they grow further and further away...until everything around me explodes into a brilliant blur of chaos and pain, and I think of him, easily picture him, his mouth tight against mine, one last time.</p><p>And then everything fades into darkness and silence…</p>
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